Chicken Soup for the Kryptonian Soul
by Kara-El
Summary: Are you FROM Krypton? Do you LOOK like Superman... or Clark? Are you in therapy because of your Kryptonian Heritage? Do you THINK you are from another planet or do you KNOW it? Chapter 5 like him, I was less than truthful.. an Apology.. REAL Kryptonite?
1. Basic Rantage

_**Author's Note** _

_-- my first fan-fic -- if you can call it that._

_**Disclaimer** _

_Despite the fate that I am Kryptonian (born and birth-chambered,) I own no rights to DC comics Superman, who is -- after all -- a comic book character, not a real person like me, who is a real Kryptonian. Really._

_I am not nuts._

_If "Kryptonian" is also copyright, then I am Kryp-Tonian. _

_My name, Kara-El, is the formal version of my common name, Kar-El, forced on me by assertion that the name Kar-El was taken._

_By Rao, would the faux Kar-El show her face and let me have my true name herein?_

_Whatever,_

**CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE KRYPTONIAN SOUL -- **solace for the earth-bound alien

EACH DAY…

Remind yourself that… _they are a good people_… blah blah blah -- because there is **so **much… about **so **many of them… that is... Just. Plain. Irritating.

Appreciate your earthly adoptive parents for what they are… weaklings that imbued you with human foibles and flaws -- and thank them. An e-card and tickets to Cirque de Soleil on their anniversary will bring them back to the good old days when you juggled hens in the chicken coop.

Refuse to get sucked into semantics with magical imps. If you close your eyes, they will og yawa.

Never lie.

Just avoid talking. Ever.

Say no to road rage. Our kind have plowed our share of mile long trenches in corn fields -- no need to repeat this on the interstate.

Control your passions -- avoid forest fires.

Learn from your mistakes -- or, at least, bury them on one of Jupiter's less important moons.

Accept your schizoid nature and wear the suit under your clothes.

Give homage to your heritage each day; subtle is good. A Day-Glo S-shield tattooed on your shaven scalp may be a sign of overreaching.

Accept the fact that there seems to be no sign of Kryptonian cuisine in existence.

TO-DO LIST

Get Martha's apple pie recipe.

Get Lois's beef bourguignon recipe.

Buy ketchup.

Find Dr Emile Hamilton and persuade him to work on a cure for last week's gold K exposure -- start in Metropolis

Find Metropolis (not that one-horse town in Illinois)

Okay… Metropolis is on the east coast -- near New York, right? Then how could it be a three-hour drive from Smallville, Kansas -- in the heart of the Midwest?

Okay… find Kansas

Wait.

Find SMALLVILLE

Okay… there's a Grandville (in English, Bigville) near Vancouver -- it's a start.

WHEN YOU FEEL DOWN…

Remember that you ran all the clubs in high school starting with the school newspaper -- with your three other non-using friends -- while everyone else, including the Principal, was stoned on maryjane.

Hey, it was the 70's.

Get over the fact that your cousin -- who shall remain nameless (kaff… KAL… kaff) -- did not have his powers robbed from him by gold K on his 21st birthday.

Thanks Rao.

Also, forgive same blood relative for never visiting or even sending a postcard to acknowledge your existence (granted, he's a little busy at the mo', what with his recent revelation that Kryptonian and Human dna are indeed compatible.)

Try not to hold a grudge that you now have to make to-do lists since your super memory took a gold K vacation.

TBC

(C) H.M.


	2. Post AllHallow’s HowTo’s

_Thanks for the kind reviews (tho I wish there were a few more) Hallowe'en is a favourite time for me and this second chapter was a complete surprise when it popped into my head._

**POST ALL-HALLOW'S HOW-TO'S**

Now that all that fuss is over and you got to wear the suit in public without the usual finger-pointing, stares and snickers -- (mmmm, Snickers) we of the noble KIS need to re-think priorities to avoid spreading ourselves too fat... uh thin.

HOW-TO… NOT stretch your wardrobe

We all know that The Suit is forgiving -- however, even quality Kryptonian IceCrystal© Spandex smoothes over the joys of too few late-night pizza commercials.

DO NOT consider upgrading to the new IceCrystal© Microfibre Suit -- you have to travel ALL the way to Krypton to get it -- shipping cost is out of this world… possibly more than that 6-DVD set bought on Ebay from that for sure 100 percent positive feedback seller in Thailand.

BUT, and I do mean BUTT, at some inopportune moment that cape will flap UP and nether regions well-stocked will become the focus of attention in lieu of the Shield.

All eyes should automatically go to the Shield. If you sense eyeshift… take a hint.

1. GIVE THE CANDY AWAY

Remember --

Single-serving Pringles cans are candy.

-- throw it out the window -- all of it -- or… into the street -- on the off-chance those pesky neighbour kids with the knock-off unlicensed Suits might run out into the path of an on-coming …

_NO… MUST CONTROL… URGES_

2. Go through that Hallowe'en pillowcase again and find that sneaky piece of red K you swore you saw Mr. Luthor toss in when he thought you weren't looking.

_Note to self_

_Avoid the mansion next year -- despite the fact that he gives three whole single serving cans of Pringles in all three scrumptious flavors._

3. GIVE THE CANDY AWAY… you no longer have the No-Fat-Gain Kryptonian Genes. They went the way of the No-Tooth-Decay and the No-Flabby-Butt and the No-Craving-For-Just One-Just-One… Whatever and all… those… lovely… abilities…

_Sigh._

HOW-TO… cope with the candy collection next year

Leave the pillowcase in the linen closet and pick up one of those tiny plastic hollow pumpkinswithahandle made for the trick or treating 2-day old newborns dressed as marshmallows or deer tics. The size of a small Kryptonian melon, it will barely hold a single serving can of Pringles. Then, stand at the back of the crowd at the door -- hunch -- back where it's dark -- so they won't notice you're over 35.

HOW-TO… not track him down like some jealous non-super cousin who didn't deserve that random gold K exposure… uh and, like that…

Put it right OUT of your head that you swore you saw DOOMSDAY on Stagecoach Road. It was most likely one of the BIG kids in an expensive Wal-Mart get-up. Wishful thinking like that is WRONG and painful. This is supposed to be chicken soup for the soul, not battery acid burgers with a side of jalepeno green sauce for your alien gut.

Obsessing on the fact that Kal-El gets to wear the suit ANY day he WANTS will simply make you jealous and feed your K.Gene-deprived soul. Remember, jealousy will get you nowhere

-- especially not to Metropolis.

Or Smallville -- wherever the H. E. Double Hockey Sticks. it thinks it is.

ALSO,

Gloating over the one night that Clark has to wear human clothing and lead a tiny Toys-R-Us togged Superman around to collect candy that he's allergic to, while everyone else gets to act like idiots/themselves, will only get you to HELL (see hockey, above)or the ZONE sooner than you would like.

HOW-TO fly into Fall gracefully and not freeze your little Lois or Clark off

This time of the year is too chilly for Northern-Hemisphere Gold K-compromised Kryptonians to run around with their underwear on the outside all the time. Find comfort in perfecting your bumbling yet lovable alter-ego. Itchy wool layers in a fugly 3-piece and unruly needacut hair to hide your incredible Alien cheekbones is a good start.

Wear the Suit under your new clothes -- a novel idea and… warm.

Spend a loooong time in Sears Optical comparing giant frames in all possible shades of black.

Hang out at your local newspaper -- submit some Op-Ed pieces.

Collect your rejection slips in a pretty box. Wrap it in Superman paper.

Cheer up,

Christmas is coming and at least 6 versions of SR on DVD will be available.

Be assured that your friends will, out of a strange mixture of love, pity and ignorance, all buy the same wrong version for you.

On sale.

_Thanks again for the reviews!_

_Okay now.. I need to know if I should bother going on with this. I think this is sort of a fictional op-ed piece, certainly not a story. If anyone knows WHAT the heck this THING could be called, please tell me._

_No Beta -- just my interminably slow typings skills. I spot the mistakes practically before I make them. Fell free to point out anything glaring._

_Supe's Cuz, Kar :)_

TBC

(C) H.M.


	3. Christmas Coping

Thanks for the reviews Saavikam77, Lady Gwenevere Smith, Interstellar, Chris St Thomas and Nightarcher210. It seems this silly thing has struck the right note.

Ding dong ding dong.

POST-CHRISTMAS COPING

CHOCOLATE

If you haven't realized it by now, we Kryptonians have a weakness for the earth confection, chocolate, that approximates the effect of the inverse form of edible Kryptonite. Females are more susceptible, but a certain cousin of ours has been caught with the odd Snickers tucked into his cape pocket.

If you are fortunate enough to have your human mother still living (yes, she claims she birthed you – but you just KNOW that little crystal ship is hidden somewhere amidst her gigantic doll collection). The older she is, the more likely she will have a secret stash of Christmas chocolate (unlike yours that was all gone by 2:30 pm, Christmas day -- except for the head of the Lindt reindeer. We're talking a stocking-full -- Kryptonian red boot sized.) She sees it as her duty to keep you healthy and she is fully aware of your need for chocolate even though she is in denial about your true heritage.

So.

Be good to your mom and eat her chocolate.

CLOTHES HORSE (NO, NOT SUPER-HORSE)

All I can say is thank Rao for modern human clothing technology! Even though we true Kryptonian souls are deprived of our super-powered heritage and have mostly relegated the Suit to the secret hidden closet next to the shelf with the old Phantom Zone Projector our jeans will still fit us because of

Da da Da da Daaaaa daDa daDa Daaaaaa spandex.

If you have access to Kryptonian IceCrystal© Spandex choose it primarily for its muscle enhancing properties.

THE TREE

A True Kryptonian Soul keeps the Christmas tree up till his or her Gold K. weakened immune system can no longer stand the accumulated dust on the decorations.

Put down the chocolate, don the lead mask, turn the air cleaner to HIGH, and wrap all the little plastic Superman figures, S shield's and assorted Firefalls of Krypton© Decormotions© in fresh toilet paper and stash in your empty Xbox box. Place reverently in the cellar beside your unused Super-Robots.

THE CARDS

What to do with all those Christmas cards from your Superfans? Keep the really nice sparkly ones and put them in a drawer to reminisce with once you've outlived the human race. Give the others to your earth mothers Senior Citizen Club. They will transform them into fridge magnets, Xmas decorations and eyeglass holders – really.

STUFF YOU GOT THAT YOU REALLY HATE

The 16 unopened Superman Returns Video tapes or the 5 Superman Returns DVDs (full frame) that your well-meaning but short-on-imagination pals gave you can be returned to any Wal-Mart.

SIDEBAR

I recommend always returning things to Wal-Mart, but never buying anything there. A little-known fact -- Mongul owns Wal-Mart and not all those creepy greeters are human (and I don't mean they are from Krypton.)

OTHER STUFF YOU GOT YOU REALLY HATE

Non-chocolate candy, oranges, big sweatshirts without the S shield and Batman lava lamps can be imaginatively rewrapped and used in a regift game. Note: Use your vestigial Super-Memory to ensure that no gifts given to you by game participants end up in the mix. Kryptonian Souls are short on human friends as it is.

GIFTING

The misguided gift giving and Supermanoriented gift getting is over. Don't be sad. Go into the guest room (still knee deep in saved tissue and bows) and rewrap everything. Use all the Krypto-bows and Kryptotissue and make sure to apply full lengths of Kryptotape to ensure complete no-tape-edge smoothness for the ultimate gift opening suspense.

Wake everybody up at dawn the following morning, ignore their protestations about you being "that mad Kryptonian" and how you should "just go back to see if Krypton is still there and get on with it" and go downstairs alone and open everything by yourself.

Save the tissue and bows. Remember, there's only one Wal-Mart back on Krypton (and you have to travel into the past to shop there – cause we're all pretty sure its blown to smithereens --_see above_ --) and when Mongul brought the franchise to earth, his full store of the Krypto-bows and Kryptotissue and Kryptotape we all treasure for their resilience, shine and dense molecular structure were sucked into a rare black and blue hole never to be seen again (except on that documentary on DiscoveryHD.)

Rinse and repeat until you get Christmas out of your system.

BEWARE THE TURKEY

Now. We may have lost most of our lovely abilities, but the eatingeverythinginsightatxmas power luckily remained. This power, as you probably know, allows all excess calories consumed to enter the Phantom Zone where they collect in messy little piles that the Phantom Zone criminals refer to as Jor-plops.

Good to know that your Uncle had some sense of humour.

Anyhoo, to make a long story interminably longer, don't forget that Turkey meat cancels this effect. Even an infinitesimal speck of this rare and beautiful bird (rare and beautiful on Krypton anyway) will cause you to put on pounds and possibly break out on your bum.

What, you didn't know that? Where were you when they were handing out the Gold K sufferers' handbook?

That explains it then.

Ah, Valentine's day merchandise is on the shelves at Wal-Mart. Nothing like the sight of Mongul in diapers carrying a bow and arrow.

TBC

(C) H.M.


	4. He Hates Lies

**An Explanation**

To my loyal, but tiny (most likely dwindling)following:

This piece… and "Hovering on the Brink", um… I feel I must be honest and come clean, as they say, about what I am doing here and what you are reading.

It's all true – all of it – I'm not making it up.

There are some clever writers here with clever plots and even cleverer dialogue, but I can't take credit for the facts I've included in the "stories" I've submitted to this site.

Cl- uh, Kal and I had a big heart to heart last night about lying… and he told me to stop. I countered with the fact that all fiction is a form of lying and he reminded me that the stories weren't the lies – the fact that I was pretending they were fiction was the lie. All of you have been so nice that I can't continue the subterfuge.

So… It's all true.

Of course most people have no idea, and poor Clark is prevented from acting in our realm – taking any action, I mean – um, something about the balance of Yin and Yang, and he mentioned the risk of antimatter explosions. He was adamant and went on and on -- to be honest, at the point that he voiced his concerns about the differences in our dimensions quantum reality I'd stopped listening – it was 4:00am after all and I had work the next day.

Let's just say he can't let loose here, for fear of random stuff exploding… like your shoes, my linen closet or an old-growth forest.

Why, then, in Rao's name would he choose to visit? Well, being his cousin, he considers me a safe ear for his problems and, Hello, have you been paying attention? The boy has problems with a capital K.

So, he bunks in my basement. Did I mention that it's lead paint-lined? I gotta tell you it's hard to find that stuff now that everyone worries about babies, dogs and pet aardvarks lunching on the woodwork. He sleeps better if it's dark – rests the superpeepers and since I live in farm country, he's reminded of home.

Concerning the most recent film of his personal life, Clark was in consultation with the director. Of course, the director (as he shall be known herein) was not aware that he was speaking with the REAL DEAL. Clark was in full geek mode for the consultation and made me proud.

At this point I need to make a public apology to Kal since he has confined himself to my basement and won't come out till I do. Statements I made in past chapters about his lack of caring -- I was wrong – there I said it.

He has been very upset about the situation with Lois and, since he's such a good guy, has forgiven me for my callous teasing because of my jealousy re THE ABILITIES.

**NOTE**

Last month's holiday (shhh -- Valentines Day -- shhh) is a depressing one for him, and he would appreciate it if the person who has sent, so far, 67 Simpson's Valentines in Lois's name "to Superman, care of Kar-El" would stop. We are still receiving them at the rate of five or six a day via Express Post, and Clark has resorted to hiding in the crawl space every time a truck passes my house. The milkman is the only person he runs out to greet. The poor guy's in love, I think – the milkman, not Clark – considering the dazzling smile he gets (yes, we get milk delivered – in bottles – to be honest, I think that's the main reason Clark chose my basement as his Earth-Prime crash pad.)

There I go bashing him again. My bad.

In the end, why is an alternate-Earth Superhero still hanging out in my basement, you ask? He confided in me that his particular reality is a frustrating and complicated place right now, and he's worried about seeing Lois --what with the letter he left with her and subsequent events (see Hovering -- latest chapter). He says he finds our earth relaxing because of its lack of both super-heroes and super-villains, and corresponding super-crises.

**In Conclusion**

I have resigned myself to the fact that I must be the last daughter (forget about son) of Krypton on this, our version of, Earth. No one has responded to my shout out with the forum I created, and no one has come out of the Crystalline Kryptonian Closet to help me share the burden of being the lone Kryptonian here on this dead boring planet.

The pitiable fact that Gold K intercepted me before I could even start my career here is beside the point.

Sincerely,

Kara-El (actually Kar-El – Kara's a second cousin, on my dad's side – also, not in this reality – and not speaking to me right now – don't ask.)

Reviews are always welcome, sincere comments appreciated.

TBC


	5. Another Apology

ANOTHER APOLOGY

To my Dear Reader:

I know there's only one of you left -- but you are special... to me... LOL 3 :) _insert emoticon _Ah… okay, I wasn't completely… honest in the last instalment…

Finally -- the honest to Rao truth -- cross my heart and hope to be done in by Green K.

**ME, ME -- IT'S ALL ABOUT ME **

My full name is Karho (roll the 'r') Lly-El -- from the Argo City Lly-El's – I dropped my Father's name since good old dad took off to join the Kryptonopolis Flying Circus before I was even birth-chambered.

Kal is my second cousin, twice removed, on his mother's side. (My sir-name, El, is a bizarre co-incidence. Kal and I are blood connected by the Lor-Van line -- but that's another story.)

Therefore, we didn't hang out much as kids; Krypton was a patriarchal society, so his mom's side of the family was sort of the poor trailer trash connection --

-- and… neither of us could sit up by ourselves yet, anyway.

Speaking of which, we did live in a trailer – a KryptoCruiser© Double-Wide -- twice as many storage crystals than the cheaper models, and room for the pet winged cat.

On Krypton, trailers, or 'Mobillating-Domiciles' -- as the vendors call them, looked a lot like an entire pack of Freezee Pops stuck up on end – colourful, but no variety in crystal height or depth.

Colourful crystals in a Kryptonian home is a dead giveaway to bottom rungness – the more white your columns, the more status --

-- or, as Mom used to say:

)(( )( ()") ((()( )( :+  
"::::::""""")) (()))?"":"? ())'+ )( ?  
+)(( ()() O () )()(":":() ?  
)( ( )( ))?:":?())()( )("?:":" +)( () (() ""()( () !

Ha ha, I always laugh when I think of that one.

And, wouldn't you know, we lived on the wrong side of the Jewel mountains; local teen gangs were the Jewellies, and the Pointed Stick Boys, who took turns throwing loose sparkly rock-gravel at each other's flying cars.

Anywho, the exploding of said planet blew any chance I had of getting into a GOOD Krypto-Garden© preschool. Mind you, I am alive – which, I suppose, makes up for my lack of quality Kryptonian Telepathic-Helmet education.

Like Kal, I learned my heritage from the crystals my mom put in my ship – don't ask me where she got a space travelling crystal ship on her salary as a Victual Purveyor third class.

Then again, it was missing the BIG green crystal, so the closest bet was an end-of-season sale at Kal-Mart.

No, that wasn't a typo – Kal-Mart was the mega-vendors name before Mongul bought it out in that insider trading debacle in Argo City and renamed it Wal-Mart.

Ah, but I digress.

**WOOHOO, REAL KRYPTONITE**

Today's unloading of secret burden off my chest was supposed to be about my cousin Kal, and the amazing recent development in both our lives that you may have heard about. (Google 'REAL KRYPTONITE') This is the FIRST instance of REAL KRYPTONITE on this Alternate Earth.

(My own untimely exposure to Gold K, immediately prior my scheduled reveal, was off-planet – actually off-dimension – but that's another story. Ironically, a mysterious force threw me back here, to live out my life as a… ah, you know the rest.)

Ignore the fact that it's the white chalky form of Kryptonite – well-known for its plant-life-killing properties.

This is a phenomenal discovery.

**CONCIDENCE?? I THINK NOT!!**

Don't let the nay-say-ers and bally hoo-ers… and – uh, those… guys… who say it's a coincidence, pull the metal-eating moleskin over your eyes! Remember when I told you that Kal WAS CONSULTANT ON THE FILM?

My cousin does have a sense of humour, albeit a dry one.

He gave them the REAL COMPOSITION OF KRYPTONITE to use in the film as an inside joke.

**THE TRUTH **

Since this chunk of Kryptonite was found buried deep down, where NO ONE HAS DUG BEFORE, we all know that more is there.

Proof that, in this universe, KRYPTON EXISTED!

And, somewhere – OUR VERY OWN SUPERMAN IS WAITING – for the right moment.

One who could use his powers for

TRUTH, JUSTICE, AND THE _**your country here**_ WAY.

I feel better now :)

They say confession is good for the soul.

Where did I hear that before?…

**UH OH**

Wait, I just had a disturbing thought. What if the meteors that destroyed the dinosaurs, and set off an ice age, were from Krypton – they came through a black hole, or something. Then, our Kal-el would have lived his life out a billion years ago… alone.

What a horrible idea.

Hey.

Don't tell Kal about this, in case you drop by because you... have milk for us -- or more of those damn Valentines -- he's so sensitive. Look how weepy he gets over having a kid; if this possibility occurs to him, it won't be pretty.

He'll exponentially extrapolate, postulate and hypothesize… and I'll never get my basement back.

TBC


End file.
